


Consecration

by EmWrites4



Series: Michael, King [1]
Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Cody fern - Fandom
Genre: Depictions of multiple sex acts, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Ritual Cutting, Ritual Public Sex, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmWrites4/pseuds/EmWrites4
Summary: This fic is set in a time past the Apocalypse. The events depicted are an extension of what was portrayed on “AHS: Apocalypse”. It is NOT intended to be a portrayal of any actual religion or religious ceremony of any church.Based on the prompt music/lyrics of Sabrina Claudio’s “Unravel Me”Also very heavily influenced by the brief "Loving Couples" scene from the film "The Wicker Man" (1973) (so please check that out!)





	Consecration

Sundown, on the eve of the Spring Equinox. As Winter’s last dying sun sunk below the horizon, Michael waited impatiently at the altar in the new Temple. Behind him was the stained-glass window depicting his Father, the Winged One. He was slumped in his chair, already bored and preoccupied with thoughts of the million things he had to do.

This Temple consecration ceremony was the Cooperators idea. Personally, he thought it was a waste of time and resources. He knew his Father would be satisfied with a little blood and some acknowledgement, the way it had been done for the old Temple in The Sanctuary. Still, he understood that humans, even after all that had happened, or maybe especially because of it, craved ceremony and ritual. It made them feel grounded, connected. Now there were more of them and they were excited to be above ground, finally. They would expect nothing less than a spectacle.

Michael silently observed the congregants as they filed in. They were greeted by the scent of aromatic flowers and herbs that were strewn on the floor and soft lighting. Their excited murmuring quieted when their eyes fell upon him. He was resplendent in his fine black robe with red lining and his figure was slim and long-limbed in the well-fitting black suit underneath. Vermillion eye shadow framed his brilliantly blue eyes and his shimmering hair curled on his shoulders carelessly. He was every bit as alluring as he had been their entire lives and they adored him.

The Cooperators were another story; granted immortality by his Father for their assistance with the great remaking of the world, many of them weren’t so much awed by his ageless beauty but were rather intimidated by it. Some of them did still long to fuck him and his grin was mocking, feeling their old unrequited lust for him blazing as they bowed to him.

After everyone had assembled, Michael stood up. In the waning pinks and deep burnt orange of the sunset through the windows, in the candlelight and the golden sconces that illuminated the black altar and the light stone walls, he appeared to glow like their own personal golden sun. The warmth radiating from him was also very much like the sun and they basked in it, in his very presence.

“Welcome to this consecration of our new Temple. Give thanks to your Dark Father for all the blessings He has bestowed upon us this year and for the thousand years to come.”

And with three claps of his strong hands, a vibration rippled through the crowd and they were lulled even deeper into the dark stillness that ran like ink-black waters under his bright surface. Swaying lightly on their feet, they watched dreamily as the two rows of volunteers filed in.

Beautiful young men and women, ten of each, had eagerly accepted the call to participate in the ritual. They were of all shapes and sizes, all hues of hair and skin, but each wore identical wreaths of flowers in their hair and the same beatific expression as they came in to the airy space at the center of the Temple. Plush red couches waited for them there as music played softly in the background; it was sensual and evocative of starred nights on beaches none of them had ever seen. They had been fed well, bathed and pampered, and anointed with the finest oils and perfumes to be found. They smiled at each other, wine-drunk, some stoned, when they reached their designated spaces.

Michael nodded and it began. Their pale, simple-spun cotton robes fell away and they were naked and glorious. They approached each other, in pairs or any combination, and as bodies began to bend and blend together, a hush fell over the watching audience.

Michael slowly, very slowly, became aroused witnessing the carnality. After a time, he stood and walked among them, observing them with his hooded eyes taking in every sight. One pair on the left was engaged in the basic missionary position; two men on the right were stroking and sucking each other’s shafts until they throbbed hard and slippery; two men and a woman were tangled in a puzzle made of moving flesh, the woman filled from the front to the back and her eyes rolling with what he couldn’t decide was extreme pleasure or pain or both. She was the first to orgasm. Her large breasts bounced and heaved as she shook with it. Anyone who was left without a partner just laid themselves open to his penetrating stare and stroked themselves.

One couple stood out. He had seen them before in The Sanctuary, always together, kissing freely and joyously holding hands wherever they went. They were both gorgeous in their fresh, passionate youth. The boy was fair-haired with dark blue eyes, very reminiscent of himself. And like Michael, he was all lean muscle and sinew while the girl was dark-haired and honey-toned, and every part of her was luscious curves and abundance.

The golden youth was rhythmically pushing his cock in and out of the girl from behind as she thrust her hips back to meet him. Her eyes met Michael’s and held them as he slowly approached them. Michael took in every inch of velvety skin and bead of perspiration as they strained together. He held his hand under her long jet hair as it swung back and forth like a dark waterfall. Then his fingers danced delicately along her spine and swept up sweat and fragrant oil as they went. The flowers and butterfly tattoos on her hip seemed alive as the boy slapped her ass rapidly to urge her on and grunted with his thrusts, the sounds a sharp staccato contrast to the slow rhythm of the music.

The youth was also gazing at Michael as his hips pumped, worshipping him and craving his touch as well. As he moved to their side, Michael’s eyes lingered on the sight of his cock as it appeared and disappeared inside the girl’s glistening core, and it gleamed in the candlelight with her slickness. Then the youth quickened his pace and his force, gasps escaping him. There was a freedom in the harshness of his thrusting and the red marks welling up on her flesh that was only part lust and all emotion.

Michael could feel all of it. Humans could hide nothing from him and he was for a moment overwhelmed by the intensity of their physical hunger and adoration for each other, and for him. It made him feel almost drunk.

And then the dark-haired girl reared back once, twice, three times. Her dusky lips fell open. She had turned to follow Michael’s movement and he saw the glaze of release overcome her features as she whimpered loudly. He knew she was feeling devotion for her lover while also imagining it was him inside her, and he involuntarily squeezed his own thick hardness through his trousers in response. Then the same long fingers with its dark gemstone ring lightly caressed the back of the boy’s neck, just once. This barest of touches was answered with a cry as a sudden climax rocked the youth. The couple panted and moaned together, fixated with the sensation of Michael’s dark energy pulsing through them. Their orgasms went on for what seemed like forever.

When it was done, Michael gave them a satisfactory nod and moved on. His full lips were parted in a smile that was both pleased and wistful. He went back to the altar to settle back into his chair, and fell into a reverie with his eyes partially closed for the remainder of the night.

As the sun awoke, trailing her blanket of spicy new colors across the sky, night fled for slumber. Most people had left by then, with a few die-hards dozing in the pews. Michael gestured to the dark-haired girl and the flaxen-haired boy who were holding each other quietly on a couch. There had been nothing else that night like the magic they had generated. They were endeared to him now for some reason he couldn’t express as they approached him with hopeful, doe-like eyes.

He kissed each of them tenderly and they almost fainted with pleasure at the sensation. To them, his full lips tasted of coffee spiced with cloves, rich and dark, and his tongue was a whisper in their mouths. They stood before him holding each other’s hands and watched, dazedly, as he produced a blade from the table by his side and cut his own palm.

Michael dipped a finger into his blood and touched their foreheads and their lips with it in blessing. Then he swiftly and lovingly drew the blade across their throats and sighed as their blood rained down in a rushing torrent of dark, beautiful crimson. This was his own orgasmic release and he couldn’t restrain a low moan and a shudder as they slumped softly at his feet.

The ceremony was over. The other volunteers were exhausted and had to be shaken awake, flowered wreaths askew or completely missing and their make-up smeared. Before they left, Michael summoned another woman and a man to him, and asked if they desired to visit his private chambers later for his personal enjoyment, after some refreshment and rest. Of course, they did. The Cooperators were frustrated that yet again they wouldn’t be allowed to witness him in glorious sexual abandon. He openly laughed at their disappointment, the eternal tease.

Finally, some of the Cooperators sent their servants to retrieve the bodies of The Chosen. Michael knew what they were going to do with them; they were holding their own private feast later. He dismissively waved them away when they invited him to join them.

Alone in the Temple, he thought of the lovely dark-eyed girl and the beautiful golden boy, still feeling the passion that had enthralled them, and wondered at the mystery of it. He wondered what it would feel like to be so exposed, to be unraveled and broken open wide enough to allow another person to inhabit one’s soul so completely. They had loved greatly enough to follow each other even into death.

Love, in all its forms, was something he had accepted he wasn’t born for but to have experienced it through them, even for just one night, had touched something in him deeply.

He walked outside and stood for a long moment in the light of the burgeoning Spring morning. He breathed deeply of the fresh air and tasted its new sweetness. The wound in his palm was already healed, closed and smooth. It had been a beautiful consecration after all.


End file.
